May 29, 2010

Those are the Wet Mountains in the distance. (Click image to embiggen.) If you work for state parks, you are required to call this thirty-something-year-old body of water "Lake Pueblo." Sounds better.

The little point in the foreground with the juniper growing out of it looks like some of the "Penrose-Rock outcrop complex," made of limestone and interbedded shale, if I read my soil maps correctly. They belong to the Penrose-Minnequa Association, which has its annual meeting the last Saturday of June at La Tronica's Italian restaurant in Pueblo. (Joke.)

Sometimes I think that if there were more colorful sandstone and less of the blah beige shale, this area would attract more Georgia O'Keefe wannabes.

May 23, 2010

The web site provides a variety of helpful information, including: species you're likely to see, habitats you'll encounter, location maps, directions, availability of public and private facilities, latitude/longitude coordinates of sites and a general description of each site. The web site also explains techniques and etiquette for watching birds, descriptions of other wildlife you're likely to see, and resources for learning more about birds and the environment of Colorado.

• An AP wrap-up of the settlement in the Indian trust settlement lawsuit, oddly not mentioning Interior Secretary Salazar. (I think he was one of Obama's better Cabinet picks, so far, although the Gulf oil spill is going to rub off on everyone connected.)

“There are other areas [than the Mojave Desert] appropriate for solar plants,” says Mr. Gelbaum, kicking off his shoes and walking barefoot along a riverbank. “As distributed solar becomes lower-priced, there are plenty of roofs to put solar on.”

Ed-and-Gary glanced at each other quickly, then bent over and almost choked. They almost spit their drinks out right onto the table. Finally, Ed got hold of his breath and said, “No, Rex, I think we'll just be moving on tomorrow. We’ve got a long way to go. We’re heading up to fish the San Juan, near Colorado.” (I absolutely hate the San Juan — a reservoir tailwater, full of Texans.)

May 22, 2010

The purple arrow is pointed right at us,* and the wind is howling. Nevertheless, M. and I hiked to Camera Trap Spring today and placed two scout cameras in different locations, one at the spring and one on a well-traveled game trail.

It's on BLM land but legal public access is topographically challenging. We can cross a neighbor's property, gain 500 feet in elevation, and then descend almost that much, all in 2/3 mile.

Since it's not hunting season, I really do not expect anyone to come by on two feet—that's the plan.

Our other fear is a more primal one, of walking through the forest when the trees are swaying in a high wind, hoping one does not drop on our heads.

May 18, 2010

Some times it is just necessary to go fishing. A slow spring run-off this year is helping keep spring streams in southern Colorado fishable. Thanks to Sawtooth (who needs to blog more) for getting me out of the house.

This is Grape Creek, which flows from the Wet Mountain Valley into the Arkansas River at Cañon City. It was Zebulon Pike's route up into the valley in 1807, which must have been a miserable trip. I wonder what its canyon looked like then.

We caught brown and rainbow trout—and saw one battered two-foot-long tiger muskie, which must have washed down from Lake DeWeese. Out of its habitat, away from its prey base, its prospects were not good at all.

Zeb would have eaten it, had tiger muskies existed two hundred years ago. So would I, but I had no net to try to grab it with, and I could not interest it in a streamer fly.

• Every time we watched one of Ken Burns' national park series, M. and I wondered, "Why couldn't we have a Civilian Conservation Corps today?" They built so much of what we take for granted at national parks and elsewhere.

Now there would be 500 more bureaucratic hoops to be jumped through, for one thing. Someone would probably object to clothing the young people in surplus Army uniforms—too militaristic! In the 1930s, they were happy to have durable clothing.

Well, yeah, maybe. As soon as the *(@$% rain lets up, I plan to hide some geocaches that will require some serious walking. But in my limited experience, you can drive right up to within a few yards of most caches. It's the exceptions that are most memorable. And kudos to the parents who do take their kids to find those kinds of caches.

May 12, 2010

We call this effort Elk Hunting University (EHU) as a framework to pass along skills and knowledge to aspiring elk hunters. As we move through this course together, realize we are walking new ground that we have not walked before. We hope we can find innovative ways to teach you basic elk hunting skills, coach you to develop those skills to a higher level, and mentor you through articles and videos, responding to your questions and sharing with you the experiences of others.

Gordon-Poage loved to fish for trout and catfish and often went off on her own in her pickup truck, even in her 70s, said her granddaughter, Dorothy Wilkerson of Grand Junction. "She never told anyone, and there were no cellphones then. . . .

"It was like the Old West," said grandson Floyd Kendall of Grand Junction. "She'd camp out in snow, under stars or in the rain," and those who went with her learned to adjust. . . .

She helped on her father's ranch and in the summers worked as a cook in mining camps and on horseback, guiding mules loaded with ore, and sometimes dynamite and blasting caps, from the mountains to a nearby town. . . .

This woman should have been featured in Outside or Mountain Gazette, but she probably did not own enough high-tech outdoor clothing or summit enough high peaks to be considered a profile subject.

But we were keenly aware that being a Boy Scout allowed us to shoot guns, build fires and take overnight camping trips on our own. In every sense it was revenge of the nerds. You have a curve ball; I can hit a bull’s-eye with my .22.

We were bookish, but in nonacademic ways. My interests were fingerprinting, Native-American skills and customs, rock climbing, map reading, canoeing and marksmanship. All of those represented merit badges that I studied for and earned. My Indian Lore badge taught me more about that aspect of American history than I was learning at school. And this wasn’t warmed-over “cowboys and Indians” fare: from the beginning the Boy Scouts taught respect for Native Americans, their values, as well as reminders of their victimization — indeed, their genocide.

Stifled by the hearty and the homoerotic in jock culture, I found refuge in the Boy Scouts, and an outlet for my love of hiking and swimming and solitude. It was important for me to separate myself from my parents. While other mothers and fathers cheered on their children at ballgames, we were on our own — two or three of us on an all-day hike, or target shooting up at the Stoneham sandpits.

Scouting taught him useful skills, independence, and a philosophical self-reliance:

Then, and later, when an adult mentioned the Scouts with a snobbish snigger, I would think: you have no idea. I also thought: you’re afraid to let go of your children. Liberated by the Scouts, I had the confidence to be independent and was allowed to discover my identity in a way that I never could have through team sports.

In the late 1960s, at the height of the Vietnam War, the organization faced criticism for its military uniforms, the use of wooden rifles and its emphasis on military discipline and drill. Some referred to the boys as "young fascists."

May 01, 2010

If you read this blog, you probably like maps. I have a file drawer full, with certain sets kept together in large plastic bags (SE Colorado, San Luis Valley, etc.).

Forest Service maps are good for driving around, but you have to infer the topography. Topo maps don't show public land boundaries. Our county is blessed with a semi-retired cartographer who produces excellent maps of all those mountain subdivision roads, but that is just for this county.

Another advantage of personal cartography: Homemade maps often include error indicators, signs that you've taken a wrong turn or gone too far. Steve Kortenkamp produced the map below—of Safford Peak in Arizona—for the young hikers in his son's Boy Scout troop. You can discern his concern for their well-being in the many warnings he includes: the "barbed wire" you'll hit if you take a wrong turn for the horse ranch, the "cave where you end up if you miss the turn" for the summit, and the "Bridge of Death," where hikers encounter a "sheer drop on both sides!" The map uses charming drawings to orient hikers, highlighting a saguaro grove and memorable rock outcroppings. Kortenkamp explains that he took such care because the trails are poorly marked, and stranded hikers sometimes "end up calling 911, clinging overnight to the sheer rock face, and finally being plucked by helicopter in the morning." Using this map, his son's Boy Scout troop fared much better.